#solar-nightingale

[naivesilver]

AND FOR THE LAST ONE In this case you can pick whichever you wish but perhaps could I interest you in picking any of my beans interacting with any of your beans? 👀👀 IF YOU'D RATHER NOT THEN!!!! no.10 or no.15 for Wick with Nova/Leroy? :) Okay i'm done being a menace to your ask box MWAH 💕 TALK TO YOU SOOOOON!!

You know at the beginning I was planning for something entirely different but then inspiration STRUCK so we're here now 🥰🥰🥰 hope you enjoy

Pregnancy and baby prompts

18. Being unable to stop caressing the baby because "it's so soft!"

(ish, I just wanted an excuse adglfhlashk)

The house is silent and slumbering when Zvezda comes, all the lights smothered except for the fire in the hearth.

She is glad for it, though she hardly feels the need to conceal herself when out on a mission, especially one as pleasant as this. No, it’s only because it makes her job a little easier, a little quicker, and darkness holds no power over her, the faint glow of her hair accompanying her as she traverses the cramped rooms looking for her target.

The man in the bed is deeply asleep once Zvezda finds it, worn out with all the exhaustion of a new father - she smiles at the sight, but turns away quickly, her eyes drawn to the small bassinet in the corner. Only then does the fairy’s smile reach its peak, and she bends down to look at the child inside, careful not to disturb anyone’s rest.

The girl must be a few weeks old already, or have skipped that endearingly wrinkly phase most newborns seem to have - her cheeks are silken-smooth, her head full of dark, feathery hair, and even in sleep she holds tightly fisted tiny hands up to her head, looking as though she were dreaming of a matter of the utmost importance. Every so often, she twitches in her slumber, her face briefly knitting into a frown before it relaxes again and her breath evens out.

She’s wonderful. She must be thriving, despite being given to an unwed man who never raised a child before, and that pleases Zvezda greatly. “Hello there, devochka,” she whispers, brushing a gentle finger on the impossibly small head of the fairy-born babe.

She and Reul Ghorm don’t always see eye to eye, but that’s no fault of this girl, and besides, not many children need fairy godmothers the way this one will, unplanned and ill-fated, with such powerful and inclement blood coursing through her veins. She will require a watchful eye and kind hands, if she is to grow into the inheritance the Blue Fairy might have left her, and Zvezda wagers she can provide both of those, in a pinch.

“May you light the way for all you meet, little one,” she continues, still smiling. “It’s in your blood, and I will be there to help you. You are your father’s sun, but your mother named you Grad Rùnag, her sweet surprise; I understand now, why she did.”

She bends to press a kiss to the girl’s forehead, then, the last few words a quiet prayer that would be barely audible even if there were anyone around capable of hearing them. “Let us make sure she never forgets it either, hm?”

She straightens up at that, casting the room one last, longing glance; and not a moment after, she vanishes, leaving little Eliana squirming in her swaddle, comforting warmth rolling down her head and pooling around her tiny body like a motherly embrace.

[princely-griffin]

Sun, Earth, Moon

[minnesota-fats]

A fic-lit about Danny working at the watchtower, not as a superhero but as an engineer.

This is based on an prompt I read months ago but cant find where Danny put that he was a halfa on his resume but the hiring manager didn’t pay attention to it and hired him anyway. Rather than that its just Danny working at the watchtower and vibing on break when a tiny Robin finds him in the viewing deck.

—

Danny had been working for the justice league watchtower for a couple of months. He has seen hero’s come and go, paying him no mind and he was absolutely living for it! Unlike at 14, he was just a simple, normal worker—despite being half dead and the next in line for the crown in the infinite realms—he is just a simple mechanical engineer, Danny Nightingale. No one to fight, no one to save, just a big space station that needed someone to help keep it up in space.

And that's another bonus to this job; Space!

He gets to spend his shift up in the stars, looking out at the cold expanse of their solar system. Admiring the earth from a whole new angle, and he is getting paid to do it! Sure he could go into space any time, but being able to spend a good portion of his time here really made his core sing in joy. When he was on break he would wander around the areas he had clearance to go into, looking out every window at every star. Cataloging the ships movement through space with sharp eyes. His favorite place to go is the viewing deck, it was exactly what it sounded like, a place to just go and view that space outside.

It was there that Danny decided to take his break today, the Watchtower was at just the right angle to be able to see the earth from the viewing deck. Danny smiled watching the planet he lived on from afar, this really was the best job he could have ended up with!

A few months back he was having a hard time finding work after college, sure he had all the proper qualifications for the positions he applied for. But due to his medical condition—being half dead with a slow almost nonexistent heartbeat—they all refused him, afraid that his heart wouldn't keep up if he left the atmosphere to board any of the space stations orbiting the earth. To be fair it wouldn't have, he tested it by flying up to the moon and back the old fashioned way. But he couldn't just tell them that; being an ecto entity was still a crime that he was just barely able to get away from at age eighteen.

He came out to his parents once he graduated high school, they reacted poorly. Danny’s mom saw red and tried to kill him the rest of the way, claiming that Danny was just a ghost “piloting” his corpse around. Danny’s dad just stayed silent and watched, but before maddie could really do anything he acted. Jack knocked Maddie out with a strong blow to the back of her head. Danny remembered the hope that he had when Jack did that, but after he looked up at the man that hope died in his chest. The man looked torn, both angry and sad and in a voice lacking any of the familiar warmth said, “leave before she wakes up.” And he turned to pick up Maddie and made his way up the stairs. It was because of his dad that he was able to get away because after that Danny Fenton was declared dead. With the help of Sam and Tucker he was able to make a new identity for himself and go to school. From that day on Danny decided to move on and never look back.

After putting his name out there time and time again he was rejected. It wasn't until he got a letter in the mail saying he had been scheduled for an interview at Wayne tech of all places. He didn’t remember applying there but decided to go anyway, needing some sort of job to get him through. But when he got there he was greeted by Lucius Fox and Batman of all people! Danny nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the dark knight, Danny couldn't help but think the worst. But before he could bolt, Lucius explained that Batman was looking for workers with the help of Wayne Industries for the base of operations for the Justice League—The Watchtower. Turns out all his applications to several different space programs caught the man’s attention. He even explained that Danny wouldn't even need to have a physical or get on a spaceship because The Watchtower utilized teleportation technology. Danny was so excited that he agreed on the spot without even knowing the benefits he would get from working with them. Which—surprising to no one—were a lot of benefits.

Danny was drawn from his thoughts when he heard the soft, almost nearly nonexistent footsteps coming from behind him. Danny turned and saw a child—no older than twelve—wearing a hero’s costume that looked like he was mimicking a traffic light. The kid froze in his tracks when Danny turned to face him, the two staring at each other for a few moments before the kid smiled and waved at him.

“Hi,” the kid beamed at Danny, “I’m D—Robin!”

Danny lifted a brow, “you a part of the justice league?” He asked, not remembering a kid being a part of their team.

The kid shook his head, “No, my guardian is though!” He explained.

“Ah, neat,” Danny said nonshalontly as he turned back to look at the window, “you come to see the view?” He asked.

The kid walked farther into the room and gasped when he got a better look at said view. “Woah—”, he exclaimed, now standing next to Danny.

Danny looked beside him to see the stars reflecting off of the kids' eyes, “cool isn't it? I come here on my lunch breaks," Danny says.

The kid looked at him and then squinted suspiciously, “if you're at lunch where is your food?” He asked.

Danny smiled, “I forgot my lunch at home today,” Danny lied, seeing the stars gave him enough energy to continue going. He usually eats when he gets home.

“Really?” The kid asked with a raised brow.

Danny smiled and looked around to see if anyone else was there, when he saw no one he asked, “do you wanna hear a secret?” He asked. Robin looked around himself as well before he leaned down a bit so Danny could whisper into his ear, “I actually just absorb the energy from the stars to sustain myself.” He explained.

“Really?” Robin asked, looking at him again, trying to gauge if Danny was lying or not.

Danny smiled, “yep,” he said, popping the p, “that's why I got a job here, that way I won’t starve to death.” Danny grins.

“But cant you just look at the stars from earth?” Robin asked, tilting his head.

“I mean, sure,” Danny says with a shrug, looking back out the window, “but this is so much better, isn't it?”

Robin looked out the window, “yeah!” The boy exclaimed, “it's so much clearer up here than in Gotham.” He commented.

Danny smiled and looked back at the boy, “I live in Gotham, too.”

“Really?” Robin asked, “No wonder you come up here,” the boy commented, causing Danny to snort in laughter and it wasn't long before Robin joined him.

“You got that right,” Danny says with a smirk before something dawns on him, “Wait, hero from gotham? I didn't know Batman had a kid?” Robin looked away, Danny could feel his nerves and sadness pass through him.

Danny was about to tell him that he didn't have to talk about it but before he could get his words out Robin spoke up, “My parents died about a year ago… he took me in only recently, he decided to train me when I found out he was Batman,” the kid says looking down at his feet, a glare etched on his face, “i never got to avenge my parents, the murderer had a heart attack before I could even get to him….”

Danny reached out to the kid and placed his hand on Robin’s shoulder, Robin looked up at him—as if remembering that Danny was there with him.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Danny says softly, Robin looks away from him. “But I can tell you wholeheartedly, your parents are proud of you and what you are doing,” robin began rubbing at his mask, preventing him from wiping the tears away from his eyes underneath. “Here,” Danny says as he goes to pick up the 12 year old, “let's get you back to the Big Black Bat, I bet he is looking for you.”

Danny sits Robin on his hip and walks out of the room, rubbing circles into the child’s back. They walk together in silence, Robin resting his head in the crook of Danny's neck. “…Thank you,” Robin mumbles.

“Don't mention it kid,” Danny says as he looks around the corridor trying to spot anyone who could help him get this kid to the upper levels, “I know what it's like to lose your parents….”

“Really?” Robin asked, his head lifting off of Danny’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Danny says, “they didn't die, but they basically said they never wanted to see me again.”

Robin gasped, “that's not nice!” Robin declared making Danny laugh again.

“Your right,” Danny agrees as he turns down another hall towards where the zeta tubes were, maybe someone in there could help. “But, now I'm here, having the time of my life with the job of my dreams.”

Robin smiled again, “you could say you're living the HIGH life.”

Danny paused in the hall and started snickering, “that was a good one, Birdy.”

“Birdy?” Robin asked.

“Yeah, your name is Robin, that's a bird, so Birdy,” Danny explained, “its a nickname

“Does that make us friends?” Robin asked.

“Sure, as long as your guardian is ok with it.”

The boy smiled happily, excited at the idea of having made a new friend. The calm was interrupted but Danny’s supervisor yelled from across the room, “Nightingale!” He shouts, causing Danny to jump.

Danny turns to look at the man, “hey boss—” he starts, blocking Robin from the man, not wanting to scare the kid.

“You are late to clock back in! You're not getting paid to sit around with your head in the clouds!” The man shouts.

“Sorry sir, I was—”

“No! You need to get back to work, NOW!” He demanded, “this is a multibillion dollar space station, everything needs to be on a strict schedule!”

Danny sighed, his supervisor hasn't liked Danny from day one. Something about him being “young and nïeve” or something like that; “head higher up into space than we were right now.” At least that's what Danny heard him say about him once or twice.

Danny was about to talk back when something just past his manager caught his eye. It was Batman, walking fast with a look that told everyone to get out of the way. But Danny could feel the worry bleed off the man in waves. Must be looking for Robin, Danny’s mind supplied. Danny sidesteps his supervisor and shouts, “Hey Batman!” To catch the dark knight’s attention. Danny had to restrain his laughter when he saw the look of horror pass on his supervisor's face.

Now with the vigilanties cold glare focused on him, Danny smiled and adjusted his stance to show Robbin to him. “Looking for you kid?” Danny asked.

Robin smiled nervously and waved at Batman, guess he wasn’t supposed to wander off like he did. “Hey B!” He shouts.

Batman’s glare softens so slightly, a regular person would have missed it. However, Danny could feel the man’s previous anxieties melt away into a strong relief. Batman strutted forward and glared down at Danny—despite Danny being taller than him. Danny just smiled and adjusted Robin on him so he could hand him over to the dark knight.

Now in Batman’s arms, Robin tapped his pointer fingers together nervously. “Sorry for wandering off,” he mumbled before his smile came back full force, “but,” he exclaimed, “I made a friend! His name is Danny and he liked my puns! And we both have bird names!” He exclaimed all while pointing at Danny.

Batman looked from the kid in his arms to Danny, “hmm,” he grumbled. A man of few words, Batman nods at Danny.

Danny nodded back, “He’s a good kid, glad I was able to help.” Danny replied. Feeling gratitude from that small gesture alone. Batman isn't the most expressive but being able to read emotions like Danny really helps when talking to people.

Batman turns his head to look over at Danny’s superior, “hmm.” After that Batman turned and walked away.

Robin climbed to sit up on Batman’s shoulder and waved back at Danny, “Bye bird buddy! Have a good day!” He shouts as Batman enters the elevator. The doors closing behind them and leaving the zeta tube control center in near silence.

Danny looked back to his supervisor who looked as pale as a sheet ghost, Danny gave him a shit eating grin and shrugged at him. “I tried to tell ya—”

“Get back to work Nightingale!” He shouts.

“Ok, ok, I'm going.” Danny says, turning on his heels and walking away from the man with his hands held up in surrender.

—

I have so many ideas for this au and if I write more I might post it on my AO3 feel free to read other things I posted on there!

[starry-bi-sky]

thomas wayne au excerpts - things that could've been part of a grander fic except there's no grander fic

thomas wayne au - an au i made last year where danny is literally just. thomas wayne. his full name was Daniel Thomas Fenton and he started going by Thomas Nightingale after he was disowned. because of course. here is a link to the first post if anyone wants to see a more in depth view of the au (its also the start of me using the ‘danny fenton is not the ghost king’ au lmao

additional info: bruce is the result of a failed cloning attempt from vlad - vlad used a combination of danny's dna and an unnamed girl (Martha's) to make him to try and balance out the ectoplasm use. this resulted in a slightly liminal but otherwise completely human and stable baby boy. Bruce is, by all accounts, Danny's biological son. Danny named him Bruce

Danny was 24 when he died, he took in Bruce when he was 16. He is, so far, a single father in this au. (But if I WERE to add martha she wouldn't be sam or a DP character but rather a separate character on her own.)

Essentially they would go as:

Martha, 19: water does terrifying things to corpses

Danny, 19, half ghost: *heart eyes* really? tell me more they're morticia and gomez your honor

---- Like starlight -----

Bruce's father could light up a room. He was like a sun, his gravitational field could just pull you in, and before you knew it you'd be orbiting around him like one of his many planets.

He's seen it in action before, in the rare moments Thomas Wayne would allow him to accompany him to the socialite events he went to; the fundraisers; the charities. Bruce, as tall as his father's waist, would cling to his leg and watch as people drifted towards him and his star-blinding smile.

It's fitting that his father's favorite thing in the world were stars, he fit right in with them.

As an adult, Bruce has tried copious amount of times to mimic him. To try and capture a fraction of that light, that charm, in his own act - but here's the thing. Thomas Wayne wasn't made of starlight only in front of the cameras, he was made of starlight outside of it as well.

(So when older socialites laugh and tell him he's so much like his father, Bruce just thinks they are liars. They've only ever seen the Thomas Wayne his father showed them, Bruce is nothing like his father.)

In the manor, whatever room he stepped into seemed to brighten, and maybe it was just Bruce's own child-memory fuzzing it to raise his father onto a pedestal, but he stands by it. His father was a solar system, his very own galaxy. Bruce was just the lucky planet that was close enough to orbit him.

--------- arrival time ------

Ancients, ancients, what the fuck convinced Danny to ever go to Gotham of all places? Crime Capitol of the world? He's not sure, but he's been wandering around the country for the last few months, swapping between flying late at night as Phantom, and taking the busses and trains when he had the money, and was too exhausted to fly.

And of course, what convinced him to come here with his kid no less, who was just at the cusp of turning a year old? Whose curiosity of the world was growing greater by the day? Who wanted to look around and explore, and was growing tired of being held at all hours of the day by his father.

But he was going to be held, at least for as long as they were in Gotham for. He didn't trust the stuff on the sidewalks, and he didn't trust the people walking on it. Bruce was tiny, and Danny would lose his mind if he lost him in a crowd.

In his arms, Bruce whined and wriggled, pushing at his shoulders in the signature way he did when he wanted to be let down. Danny tightened his hold, and adjusted his place on his hip.

"I know, bumblebee." Danny muttered, resting his chin on Bruce's small head. His hair was still thin, but it was dark and soft, and tickled his throat a little. "But not yet, I need to find somewhere for us to stay first."

He needed to find somewhere for them to stay, permanently. He couldn't keep living like this, and he couldn't let Bruce grow up like this either. Constantly moving, homeless, unsure of when he was going to eat next? It wasn't good for him. But he needed to find a city he liked, and after that? He wasn't sure. Where did he start?

But Bruce doesn't like his answer, he whines at him, louder, and his wriggling increases. He wants down, he wants to move. They were in a new place again, he wanted to explore. He's too little to fully understand what his dad's saying. "Dada." He said, his voice thick with the accent of a child first learning to speak.

"I know," Danny repeats, stressing the word as his eyes flitted about. There was a park nearby -- maybe he and Bruce could stop there for a bit. Bruce could move around, and Danny could figure out his next move.

It was getting dark, he didn't want to be out in Gotham when it was dark. Shuffling, he moved the inside of his jacket to wrap around Bruce better. It was getting cold, too. Last winter with Bruce had been hellish - Bruce's liminality meant that Danny's immunity to the cold hadn't been passed down to him. Danny had spent all winter terrified that Bruce was going to get sick and die. He didn't want to go through that stress again, especially now that Bruce would be moving.

He hoped they could find new living arrangements soon.

---- dniwer eht klolc - clockwork's conversation ---

Laughing quietly as Bruce ran out of the room, Danny turned his attention back to the mirror, his fingers curled around the knot of his tie. They'd been planning this outing for weeks since the movie was first announced, and Danny wasn't going to let anything ruin tonight.

Humming under his breath, his hands fell from his tie and he steps back. They were leaving in half an hour, at best, but experience from the last six years has taught Danny that he wants to be ready before then.

In his reflection, the clock behind him stops ticking, and a wave of nothing washes over him, a subtle shift he's gotten used to that was the sensation of time stopping. Ticking, soft and coming from all four sides of the room, filled his ears.

Danny's smile drops. And behind him, Clockwork swirled into existence like a blackhole reversing its pull. "Don't go out tonight, Thomas." He says, his voice stern.

That wasn't happening.

He reaches up to push back a loose strand of hair out of his face. "Does something happen to Bruce, Clockwork?" He asks, his voice deceptively calm. That would be the only reason he would postpone tonight. If it endangered Bruce, then he would just have to break the news to him that they'd have to go tomorrow.

In the reflection, Clockwork's lips thinned, pressing together tersely. He looked tense, the grip on his staff was tight, tighter than Danny's seen it before in recent years. And it worried him a little.

Clockwork is silent for a few seconds, hesitant, before he finally speaks. "No, Bruce will be fine." He says, and uncharacteristic of him, he shuffles, "But--"

Ah, good then. Danny's smile returns briefly across his face. Then it could be something Danny can handle. "But nothing then, Clockwork." He says, interrupting the Ancient firmly. He leans back slightly to look over himself again in the mirror, before going to undo his tie. He's changed his mind about it.

"Boo has been looking forward to our movie all week, I'm not crushing his hopes by changing my mind last minute." In just a few seconds the tie was off his neck and tossed onto bed behind him. And Danny was reaching over the dresser beside him to grab a pearl necklace, he normally didn't wear it, it belonged to Mrs. Wayne and he inherited it after she and Mr. Wayne passed away last year. It wouldn't hurt to wear it for a special occasion like this.

Clockwork's lips tightened, and his shoulders tensed up. "Thomas," He says lowly, "Please."

...Clockwork never said please. Danny's never heard him say please in the last ten years he's known him. This... must have been pretty serious -- but, his core tugged at him. He couldn't cancel without finding the reason why. Bruce was so important to him, Danny couldn't break his heart with this without learning why. He wouldn't allow it, and neither would his core.

He hooks the necklace around his neck and turns to face Clockwork, frowning deeply. "Does something happen tonight?" If he knew the reason -- he just needed to know the reason.

Clockwork stares at him, and something that Danny can't catch appears across his face. "...I cannot tell you." He says after a long moment, his voice quiet.

That... is not the answer Danny wants. He won't cancel.

He frowns. "If something happens tonight..." He says slowly -- Clockwork said that Bruce is unharmed. That must mean Danny was able to handle it. He allows himself to smile reassuringly, and he steps forward to clap a hand on Clockwork's shoulder. "Then I will handle it, alright? I promise."

He gets no response back. Clockwork's expression unreadable as he nods silently - Danny's anxiety curls in his gut. He's being so unlike himself. But he shakes Clockwork's shoulder gently and steps around him, leaving the room.

After a minute, he feels time return to normal.

[lilibethwrites]

A Midsummer Night’s Pain

Aegon II Targaryen x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for Rook’s Rest, NSFW (smut)

Word count: 5876

Ao3 & Masterlist

Aegon returns from Rook’s Rest with severe injuries, and your lives change forever. While he is haunted by aches that would put a lesser man to the ground, you are at your wit’s end with his stubborn refusal of help. A sleepless night of slowly healing burns and bones leads you both to introspection and confrontation. Heated exchanges, frustrated sighs, and hungry kisses restore your belief in the strength of your bond built on devotion and love.

Aegon was no stranger to sleepless nights. Anger, frustration, the immutable urge to suppress all parts of him until he was stripped down to bare flesh and bones and the basest of urges as he got so masterfully lost in the dark, narrow streets of Flea Bottom among a sea of drunkards swaying side to side… If one didn’t know any better, one would assume the dark hours of the night, the hour of the ghost or the nightingale or the wolf were all dedicated to him, that he was the ghost that haunted the stone halls of the Red Keep, the nightingale that sang with a few tankards of Flea Bottom ale or better in his belly, the wolf that bared his teeth as good as any Stark should the occasion necessitate it.

 Then, Flea Bottom was stolen from him, and then, so was his flesh. His brother had traded an eye for a dragon, though no one, no one at all could say if he meant his words or if he were too muddied of the mind on the Milk of the Poppy—he was fed about the same amount as a grown man would be— to make sense when he found the exchange fair. Aegon, however, was painfully sober and himself when he was made to trade his home a bit far from home for a crown which once sat on the forehead of his namesake. Aegon certainly did not wish to take his golden boy to the skies for bloodshed and pain. In fact, he always, though quietly, maintained that Sunfyre was a masterpiece fallen from Seven Heavens. Too exquisite, too regal, too graceful, too beautiful to be a tool of war; no, Sunfyre wasn’t designed for tragedy, it suited him ill.

 But curiously, while all else slipped from his fingers, you remained. You’ve been a friend, loyal and patient when Aegon knew any better than to fall to his knees and worship you, then, a lover, passionate and steadfast even when Aegon was difficult to love even to the flesh that breathed life into him. So, when Aegon had left with a finger under your chin, with his lips on yours, with an ornate armour fit for a king, with a rich velvet cloak cascading down his shoulder, you remained hopeful. Perhaps for the first time, you brought your palms together and turned your eyes to the sky, beyond the clouds where Aegon and Sunfyre eclipsed the beauty of the sun itself to vanquish the enemy, to the Gods. You prayed, you begged to have your husband back.

 “I would be a cripple otherwise”, you had petitioned. “He is half me, I am half him. He is the heart of my heart.”

 Gods had listened, but Gods also delighted in mischief and trickery at the expense of good, undeserving souls. Aegon was brought back to you upon loyal shoulders, unconscious and beyond recognisable with the dark red of his drying blood and the ugly brown of earth caked in his hair, on his face, on what flesh was revealed from his armour.

 Grand Maester Orwyle suggested it was better you did not look. He reasoned it was a sight too ghastly for the fairer sex to behold.

 “He is my husband, for the Seven’s sakes!” You threw decorum out the window when you grabbed the long chain snaked around the Maester’s neck.

 “You will allow me in. Your queen demands it.”

 The man had no choice but to bow his head, to step aside so you would enter the solar repurposed as a second office for the Maesters with a grandiose bed pushed to the end of it, concealed with the heavy drapes of the canopy pulled—what dignity was there for Aegon to preserve? Has he ever had it, anyway? Hasn’t he always been the odd one out, the one disowned at the drop of a hat, over and over again? Nothing precious about him, nothing noteworthy, nothing of value was lost. That has always been his belief; that has always been what he was led to believe.

 “The only time my mother touched me was when she struck me in the face. Even then, I imagine, her breakfast must have heaved in her stomach… She looks upon me as she would a rat caught between the walls,” he’d once confessed over warm, watered-down wine of a Flea Bottom wine sink he’d taken you to.

 “I love you. I desire to love you to the end. I desire to show you that I love you. I do not know how. I was never given it…” His plush lips had twisted into a lopsided smirk, acidic and self-loathing. It must have been him, he always thought. His mother was capable of showing love otherwise. She gave love to a man rotting on his feet, who only ever took her so he would put babes in her womb—and then forget about them and venerate the one he already had. His mother showered Helaena with love, his mother worshipped Aemond after her daily prayer to the Seven, and she never once stopped admiring Daeron even if all he did was pack up and leave. Aegon was left to seek love elsewhere, pitiful bits at a time. That was, until you came along.

 “I fear I will make a mess of it. I muck everything up,” he had sniffled—then, wiped his cheeks on the back of his hand, blinked, and returned to the man unbothered by all, like the scales of a dragon deflecting Scorpion bolts.

 But you knew, oh, you’ve always known. There were cuts within him that never ceased bleeding. The superficial ones were easily remedied with drinks and gathering up of your skirts and the loosening of your bodice. But those? Those needed precious care, all the patience in the world, and a stream of love to rival the supposed stream of Arbor Red that runs across Seven Hells, as Aegon alleged.

 “Tis makes little sense. Why would wine run from a stream? And why in Hells, and not in Heavens?” You’d inquired once.

 He’d shrugged. His brows furrowed in mock disappointment as if you’d failed to grasp a point so explicitly made.

 “So I can enjoy it, of course. How am I to do so if it runs in Heavens?”

 Even the most optimistic of his men shared in hushed whispers their doubts that the king would ever awaken. Some urged that his brother be named Prince Regent at once and overtake the matters of the Realm presently. Some found it treacherous, and what would become of you?

 You were about as concerned with anything beyond the body lying limp on the bed as the brass candelabra that sat beside it. You broke your fast and took your supper beside Aegon, you bathed and read beside him. You curled up to his body and gave your ear to the slow thumping of his heart at nights.

 Aegon got worse before he got better. He came down with the fever, and though Grand Maester reassured you it was a testament to the glorious resilience of the constitution of our king, you were a revenant floating up and down the chamber until his flesh ceased burning from the inside.

 Then, unceremoniously, he awoke.

 His throat was dry, his voice unused. The usual velvety quality was subjugated to raspiness.

 “I mucked it up… again,” I told you I would, he meant to continue, but his tongue felt too heavy.

 Your back was turned to him, your eyes set upon the silhouette of the Street of Silk with its pillow houses growing taller by the day, your nails digging into your palms as if the pain you’ve inflicted upon yourself would miraculously shave off the affliction your beloved husband was no wonder subjected to.

 You flinched. You’ve never quite lost hope, but perhaps, deep down, the reunion you often thought of was one where you would join Aegon, not the one where he would return to you.

 You were on him, and Aegon did not make a sound of pain lest your arms abandoned him. How was it that you were glad and not ashamed to see him? He had expected you to call him over the coals. What sort of man was he anyway, defeated by a single rider with his brother in the sky with him? What sort of king was he anyway, that he failed the one thing any dragon rider would have accomplished as easily as pulling a hair out of butter?

 But you drowned him in kisses and praises bordered on adulation instead. Aegon soon found he strongly preferred your gentle touches and generous flattery to any medicine the Maester could concoct.

 The burns began to scab over soon after, though the pain remained. He would have accepted it easier if it was constant, but instead, it elected to come at odd hours and inconvenient times, striking out of nowhere like a snake coiled in the bushes of the gardens below his window.

 Thereafter, Aegon was once again no stranger to waking up in the hour of the ghosts, with salty sweat burning his deep-set eyes and a sharp, burning pain splitting him open from head to heart like a Valyrian sword. He’d often stay up, though against his wishes this time, stirring and clutching the sheets or the pillows and biting down on his plump lips until teeth tore skin and blood prickled, until the hour of the owl or the nightingale—he’d often lose track—gave way to dawn.

 It was one such night when you awoke, or rather, you were awakened by Aegon’s stirring and grunting, controlled despite the overwhelming agony lest he woke you from your deep slumber. You’ve been the one constant thing of comfort in his life since the moment your fingers intertwined with his. He held your hands like a rider would the reigns of his dragon for fear that he would slip from the saddle and perish, and he intended to only let go to be burned to ashes, stuffed in an urn. No matter the pain, the frustration, the anger, he would behold you and be swiftly reminded that there was at least one good thing in the world still, and so the sun would have a reason to rise for another day. But even the most ardent, noblest love had its limits in the face of nearly-intolerable pain.

  You turned with your heavy eyelids, almost out of reflex, as you often did in your sleep when your bodies separated too far apart for your liking. You hummed with a hand searching for his face, starting at his damp chest and moving up. It was a humid day, an even less bearable eve, and a torturous night that made you sweat as you remained motionless, sticking the soft, silk chemise to your flesh.

 Aegon inhaled a sharp breath, steeled himself, and his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, bringing it to his lips.

 “Nightmare?” You asked. He has been plagued by them all his life. They were few and in-between back then, back when wine could dull them. They became sharper with the weight of the hefty crown on his head. They came in spades with unyielding force until he jumped from the bed and leaned so dangerously low on the stone guards of his balcony to burn his lungs with the night air.

 “No,” he whispered, shuddering and panting.

 You knew, then. In fact, you’ve known the moment you awoke, yet, you wished to be wrong.

 His aches got worse whenever he clenched his teeth all day or in his sleep, and he did so when his stress climbed and overtook ration. Anger often superseded all other senses then, and you often assumed this crippling pain was a defence mechanism instilled by nature within Aegon. It hurt him, yes; seeing him hurt also pained you gravely. But, it was a blessing, it stayed Aegon’s hand from greater destruction. At least, that has been your weak miseration, except, pains often crept upon your husband in the dead of the night, like a cowardly enemy hiding behind the walls.

 “Oh,” you mumbled softly, half with the devotion of a wife falling for her husband more and more each day, and the care of a mother who would feel twice the pain her babe suffered.

 “I should summon the Maester, have him prepare some—”

 “Please, no need, love. I—I shall be better, soon… Just… sleep it off,” Aegon attempted to halt you, speaking through gritted teeth on the verge of shattering.

 If there was ever a soul to match Aegon’s unyielding obstinacy, it was you and your indomitable mulishness. Aegon admitted so, when he kneeled before you and presented you with a newly minted ring impressed with the three-headed dragon of his family, asking for your hand in marriage. It was a jarring sight, the crown prince, the reluctant, forgotten heir under a moth-bitten cloak, brandishing a golden ring so expensive it could buy the entirety of the Bottom and still demand a few silver stags in change. He would not have imprinted the ring with the heraldry of his family, the one that so trenchantly refused him, if he didn’t so ardently wish to do his proposal properly. You deserved nothing less. You were not some pillow wench or a widow, wed to be bred or fill the diminishing coffers.

 “Tis no pain you can sleep off.”

 It was not a bargain he would win. You rolled out of the bed to stick your head out of the door, to ask Ser Criston if he would be so kind as to have Grand Maester Orwyle prepare something for the pain. That was all you needed to relay. The pain only meant one thing, the kind that would’ve put a lesser man in an early grave; not a simple headache or upset stomach, but the pain to dwarf all pains.

 Before long, an ornate silver platter was delivered to you. Upon it was a delicate vial with translucent liquid, and a teapot with matching painted china from Lannisport.

 First, you poured the content of the vial on a cotton cloth, and sat beside Aegon on the edge of the bed.

 His pale cheeks were reddened with the pain that had him clenching and whimpering. His eyes, usually big and bright and oh-so-mischievous, were squinted in exhaustion, forming deep lines between his brows.

 “You should not suffer it alone. You gave me your word you would not anymore,” you whispered, dabbing the cloth on the scabs of his burns, tracing the angry-red-turning-brown from his cheek to his chest.

 It stung at first, and Aegon gasped, closing his eyes and flinching away before he could catch himself. He balled his hand into a fist after that, and braved the pain in pursuit of relief. Truth be told, your presence alone was more relief than any medicine of the Citadel, even when he was nearly certain the pain would blind him.

 “You looked—you looked serene, bathed in the moonlight. Could not—could not dare disturb your slumber.” His voice was low and gravelly despite the grandiose artistry of a pompous bard he attempted to invoke. The corners of his lips twitched up into a faint smile before turning upside down with the pain a gesture as small as that caused.

 “I shall not be swayed by honeyed words, Aegon,” you attempted to be stern, but you knew you were swayed already. He did, too.

 “It passes, love. It always does. Just—just a matter of… patience.”

 Then, when his head lulled on the pillow so he could look at you better; in the pale moonlight, you saw the tears that stained his eyes. The pain was only half the reason for them. Aegon was ashamed to be a burden to you, his lover, that he must protect and provide for as any man with a sliver of chivalry should, not lay in a bed halfway paralyzed. Useless. A burden. An inconvenience. Dependent on the charity of his wife.

 You brushed short, choppy strands of silver that stuck to his damp forehead and cheeks away, and passed your hand over his head until he leaned into your touch.

 “We are a soul split in half,” he once told you, drunk enough to be brave but sober enough to mean every word. He was right. You were privy to the thoughts galloping in his mind.

 “Will you ever understand it to be an insult that you would flee from my care? I wish to care for you.”

 Aegon’s response was averting his eyes and inhaling a deep breath. His burnt hand, on the mend but likely to never regain its motion in entirety, stiffly patted your thigh and remained resting there.

 “Milk, then?”

 The offer was in vain. Once Aegon awoke, he trenchantly refused to be dulled. However maddening the pain might be, he desired to tough it out—sober. There were times his boyish mulishness was endearing, but this wasn’t one of them. You struggled to understand how it would serve him to be crushed under pain unnecessarily when the remedy awaited him in the pot. You were growing impatient with witnessing Aegon’s suffering helplessly.

 “Why must you be so bloody-minded, huh? If this is your twisted idea for self-flagellation, cease it! Whatever imagined failure you punish yourself for does not exist! Whatever perceived shortcoming you may think you have exhibited is a delusion! What does this help? This—this violent suffering in absolute vain?!”

 You rose from the edge of the bed, pacing towards the table with the intent of smashing the pot to bits against the wall. Aegon was torturously reticent at times when he doubted the outcomes of speaking his mind.

 “Nothing!” You spoke, or rather, yelled on his behalf. “Accomplishes nought but further torment!”  

 “I was kept on—on Gods know what when I should have been awake!” Aegon raised his own voice then.

 It was a strong mixture of Sweetsleep and the Milk of the Poppy dissolved in alcohol. The Maesters didn’t want to leave his rest to chance. For a good reason, too, as Aegon grew restless the moment he could move his limbs once again.  

 “I have failed you—you all.” Without his mother to deliver the punishment to his cheek in the form of slaps or his arms in the form of mean pinches that bruised without fail, he had to take the matter into his own hands.

 “You do not even hear me, do you?” You mumbled, hunched on a chair by the table. “I am simply speaking to the walls… you shall believe what you will no matter what.”

 Perhaps it would have pained Aegon less if you kicked up a storm, and turned the chamber upside down until nothing but broken and shattered bits of furniture and glass and torn tapestries remained. But to hear the helpless defeat in your voice instead? The low but unmistakable tinge of exhausted despair entered his ears and trailed down his throat as if he swallowed melted iron hot from a blacksmith’s forge.  

 He let the silence hang above your heads like the scythe of the Stranger for a moment or two that dragged on endlessly, then, he broke it himself. Though that time, his own words came out choked and quiet.

 “You should not have wed me,” he murmured, half in shame and half in agony. “My brother… perhaps half a man in soul and half a petrified gargoyle, but intact in flesh… somewhat. Hah,” Funny how things turned out. Perhaps he deserved this not for the lecherous revelries but for being a passed-out drunk on the steps of Driftmark when his brother was robbed of an eye. “Would’ve served you better all the same.”

 “What nonsense,” you scoffed. His words deserved a harsher response, perhaps, but the notion was so ridiculous to you that all you could do was shake your head in incredulity. “Surely you do not mean it?” Surely, he wishes for a reaction, to elicit a rise from you.

 “Look at me… what good am I to you in this state? A broken man, through and thorough.” Growing bitter by the day, too.

 “You know I would prefer the worst of you to the best of anyone else. Anyone… you know it, Aegon.”

 You approached the bed again under Aegon’s alert gaze. His pale eyes caught the light of the candles; you always thought a bit of Sunfyre was in him.

 “I was not under the naïve assumption that it would be easy when I fell for you.” Your hand reached for his, kissing his knuckles one by one before enveloping it in case he withdrew. “You asked me once if I loved the idea of you. Do you not remember what I said?”

 Aegon looked down with a wistful smile, then, dragged his gaze back to your face.

 “You told me… that whatever I may be, or become, would eclipse what you could ever conjure up.”

 “You did not believe me then, and you certainly do not believe me now.” There was no bite to your words; what little anger rose in your chest was short-lived. You’ve always found it rather difficult to stay mad at Aegon for long. You brought his hand to your cheek and pressed a kiss on his palm.

 “I thought you were mad for it. Twas no easy promise, not when it is me you dedicate—”

 The finger on his lips caught Aegon off-guard, and your soft lips upon his parched ones that followed were always welcome—in fact, they were desperately needed above air and sustenance.

 Your hands cupped his face; his cheeks were full again, though the colour hadn’t returned in full yet. The tip of your nose touched his, and Aegon leaned in to press another kiss to your lips. It was chaste, close-mouthed, like a seal to a missive.

 “I love you,” you whispered against his lips. A hand trailed down to his neck, and another rested on the back of his head, your fingers found their home in his dishevelled hair.

 “I love all of you, down to your very essence. I do not care what the Realm thinks of you. I do not care what you think of yourself. I know you, and I love you.”

 Your lips moved up, planting a kiss on the space between his nose and lips where light hair began to tickle—he was due for a shave— another to his cheek, then another to his jaw, and one more to the dimple in his chin.

 “I love the sound of you, I love the scent of you, I love the feel of you...”

 Aegon drew a deep, shaky breath when your lips moved further down to his neck, then, to his bare chest. His chest began to heave and fall quicker under your lips, blood began to rush down to his breeches. Just like that, so easily, you have worked your magic. A quiet spell fell from your lips, and Aegon snapped out of his self-pity. Well, partially. The Aegon that he was almost getting comfortable with being, the one who hadn’t resented the crown all that terribly anymore, the Aegon that had almost returned to his suave, younger self, would have flipped you on your back by now, hiked your chemise up to your waist and undone the ribbons that held your stockings to your thighs with his teeth, as he often loved to do so to the music of your giggles and gasps. That man would have buried his face between your legs already, but, this man was unsure if he could even please you with his fingers anymore.  

 “Nothing has changed. You have not changed. You feel the same, you taste the same. No one will ever hope to compare,” you whispered against his warm skin, right above the waist of his breeches where a light patch of hair disappeared into and the wet trail of your kisses concluded.

 Aegon was semi-erect when you palmed him through the rough fabric of his trousers. You’d done this more times than even the Maesters could count, and some said they knew infinite numbers. Yet, this time you couldn’t roughly pull at the laces and tug his member until his hips quivered and rose from the mattress to hit the back of your throat, to feel the contraction, to see your eyes widen. No, with shattered bones and scorched flesh, you needed to be cautious in the ways you’ve demonstrated your love.

 You licked your lips as Aegon peered at you intently. A hot palm with cold fingers slipped down Aegon’s trousers and gripped his length, and he shivered with anticipation. How long has it been anyway? Felt like a few lifetimes to him.

 You began by stroking him, then, pulled the waistband down around his thighs, and wrapped your lips around the reddened, crown of his cock. Aegon attempted to push himself deeper, but yielded with a whimper. Your head bobbed to the rhythm of your lover’s moans and muffled praises bleeding into curses, picking up the pace as his panting grew quicker. A hand wrapped around the base of his shaft intent on pushing Aegon to the very peak with touches to his heavy stones, while another ghosted fingers across his abdomen. He laced his fingers in your hair in response, neither pushing nor pulling, simply savouring the privilege of getting to feel you—any part of you—on his fingertips again. He’d realized there was much he’d taken for granted with you, high on the vapours of confidence that he would not be parted from you so untimely and unexpectedly.

 “Love, not—Gods! Not long, now,” he rasped. His better leg began to twitch and bounce, and his manhood in your mouth throbbed with each hollowing of your cheeks. His heart thumped erratically, he was certain you could hear it down between his legs with loud it was. Sweat beaded at his forehead and rolled from his hairline to his neck. Aegon almost always sounded as if he were about to weep when he was brought close to his release. “’Tis only you,” he’d told you once as he’d embraced you on a mattress stuffed with straw in a rented tavern room, “who has ever managed this—to reduce me to a whining fool. Cross my heart.”

 The pit of Aegon’s stomach churned and a brief but nothing less than torridly intense shiver rippled through him. Though he would have gladly traded all his limbs—for what value they held now—to release inside your walls and watch his seed leak out of you, he couldn’t be a choosing beggar until he could cage you under his body again. So, he spilt himself in your mouth, and for a moment, before he began to come down, the entire world consisted of the warmth of your mouth and the throbbing of his cock.  

 It would take the Seven Realms twice over to truly break the spirit this man, your Aegon. You’ve never once doubted it, and he proved you right when his lips quirked into an impish smirk as soon as his breathing began to settle down to a more even beat, and he watched you with dark eyes as you swallowed his load and wiped the drool off your chin.

 “Gods, sometimes I question if I took a Street of Silk whore for a wife,” he teased, though his joke was laced with lust and his voice was husky. He left your hair to caress your cheek, then, reached for your hand to pull you up and closer to him.

 “As if they’d wed you,” you snorted.

 With a hand in your hand, and the burnt one on your hip, Aegon was persistent in pulling you up to himself. It wasn’t so much the climbing him you feared, but the warm dampness between your legs threatened to take the reins until you found yourself seated on his hips, grinding with unprecedented urgency. But neither of you was quite known for your cautious ways, so you found a place to rest right above Aegon’s waist where the burns healed the quickest and the bruised to his ribs faded. With the salty aftertaste of him on your tongue and fatigue beginning to settle, you were ready to cuddle into his good side and slumber for whatever short time you could until dawn broke. Yet, Aegon had different plans altogether. He's never been a man to remain beholden to someone, especially in matters of pleasure.

 So, his fingers snuck under your shift and found your heat like liquid mercury to a magnet. It wasn’t the easiest to pleasure you like this, not when he was spoiled with being used to spreading your legs and pumping his fingers faster each time you whined and attempted to squeeze your thighs together to resist the climax he was beckoning. If you had devised this intricate plan to have him willingly submit to the Maesters, so he would heal as swiftly as his flesh allowed, so he would once again bury himself deep inside you, Aegon would have to admit you have succeeded.

 “C’mere, luv” he tapped on the side of your thigh, coaxing you to move up and up until you were nearly seated on his chest.

 “C’mere, I said,” he feigned annoyance at your reluctance. But it wasn’t so much reluctance as it was confusion. You’d only assumed he wanted you closer so he would get a better look at your glistening cunt, or reach your slit better. So, Aegon had to meet you halfway. With his fingers digging into your bare ass, he slouched with the urgency you wouldn’t have thought his body was capable yet, and he pulled you to his face.

 You gasped his name and held onto the ornate headboard lest you truly sat on his face and gave him another part to ache. You could feel his warm breath on your dampness, and his lips soon began to drag across the sensitive flesh.

 “Do not hover, darlin’, sit. Fear not, you shall do me no harm. I’ve survived worse, I assure you that my wife’s cunt will only do me good.”

 His fingers dug deeper into the tender flesh of your ass, he pulled you down on himself until you could feel the stubble around his lips and chin on you. He gave you a torturously long and slow, flat-tongued lick across your slit and groaned into your warmth. It was mostly muffled when he proclaimed with lust that he “could dine on you forever.”

 Your swollen, sensitive nub was flicked by his nose with each forward thrust of his face to bury his pointed tongue deeper inside you hungrily and to devour you better. The mewls and moans of his name from your lips and your taste on his tongue drove Aegon nearly into madness. He wasn’t sure he could feel pain even if someone took a hacksaw to his legs.

 As Aegon alternated between fucking you with his tongue and swirling his tongue over your slit to collect your slick greedily, your skin heated up and your face grew so hot you suspected your cheeks might catch fire and burn down to sinew. Despite the white-knuckled grip on the headboard, you began to buck your hips into his mouth.

The more Aegon groaned into your cunt and frantically lapped at you, the more you took the name of the Seven in vain, jolted and arched your back with each slight contact of his teeth or a rough brush of his stubble whenever he turned his head to gasp for air. Aegon went on as if he could tirelessly to the ends of days, but your muscles began to tighten and your walls fluttered. Aegon’s hands on your hips stilled you from jerking involuntarily; he did deserve to savour your release after the hard work he’s put in, after all.

 Soon, you were crying out Aegon’s name in ecstasy, hips stuttering while you writhed on his face, sinking your fingers into his hair to pull his head back and away from your cunt to no avail. Slick ran down his chin, and you slumped over with breath hitching and knees weakened by how your limbs cramped and quivered. Though you were prudent enough to lift yourself off of him and roll to the side, Aegon wouldn’t have minded if you decided to remain perched on his face for the rest of the night.

 The chamber was heavy with the unmistakable, musky smell of sweat and sex despite the windows. You both laid with on your backs, panting and chests heaving for a moment. You supposed you might have stumbled if you left the bed now; weak knees and dizzy head hardly made a good combination. A cup of wine shared between your lips and his would’ve served well now, but Aegon’s hand splayed on your warm belly, and he guided you to his side instead.

 “Stay,” he purred, and you did.

 You buried your face against his throat, and he whispered sweet nothings into your hair, inhaling your scent. His hand moved to your back, rubbing comforting circles and tracing patterns you couldn’t quite figure out. Your breath on his neck tickled him ever so slightly, you’ve always known it, but you’ve always enjoyed the stifled chuckles too much to stop. In fact, Aegon wouldn’t have let you if you tried.

 Nothing needed to be said, the silence was intimate and comfortably shared. Aegon preferred it this way; he could never quite do justice to his feelings with words, they often failed him. I love you in Common Tongue wasn’t enough, avy jorrāelan in High Valyrian never sounded right, but to serve you until you moaned loud enough to wake the Red Keep has always felt right. Look how much I’ve grown to learn you, look how I know you like no one else, look how I’ll toil between your legs until my last breath just to see that exhausted, sheepish smile on your face, look how I’ll defy my own nature if I must to hear my name fall from your lips just once more. It felt right to you, too. You’ve seen Aegon at his most vulnerable, you touched his hair as he wept on your lap, you fought over insignificant things that always ended with shattered vases and broken goblets and your bodies tangled like the stems of summer daisies, you’ve seen too much of his love to need to hear the words anymore. They were sorely paled in comparison to this silence that you shared. And tonight, Aegon has felt better than he has in a long while; the damage to his pride healed by your gentle hands and his mind was taken off self-pity that brewed and festered.

 The Maesters might have saved Aegon’s flesh, but he was certain, as you drifted off and his eyes trailed off to the starless night beyond his window, that you have saved his spirit.

I have a permanent Aemond tag list, but let me know if you'd like to be tagged for any future Aegon II fics. For now, only tagging @aegonx

[elena-oc-blog]

Behold Astron, Primordial God of Creation and The Universe Itself

There was once a great cosmic egg and when it hatched, Astron and Kronos exploded outwards from it. This event is known as the big bang, though nobody is sure just how long ago it occured. Astron (He/It/Xe) is the universe itself and the creator of everything it holds, including the gods who are his children and the planets and solar systems which are xir projects. Earth's solar system was his first project and the one he is reportedly the most fond of. So much so that it has this solar system displayed on xir left wing. But it has many projects to tend to and always new planets and stars to create and expand and thus he created the deities to watch over earth and the life that had come to flourish on it. While xe can not watch our planet at all times, it's thought xe does hear our prayers and sometimes listens. Especially on Astronomas, the holiday where we all celebrate our existence and show gratitude to those who make our lives worth living, is thought to have such a strong collective prayer that it summons him to observe us. Of course it sadly is unable to visit us as individuals. Its presence would simply be too overwhelming for our mortal minds. But through the other gods xe is able to help us, relay xir wisdom and his love. Astron's sacred animal is the six legged salamander. His values are wisdom, exploration, connection, discovery and creation. It's common to see xir likeness depicted in schools, universities, libraries and institutions of the sciences. -excerpt of The Book of Gods by Kipo Nightingale

[chocoblep]

#3: Fighting Form

Prompt: Tempest

Kismet took a single step backward as he flipped one of his daggers into a backward grip. Across the mats in the basement of Nightingale House, Shev did the same as he shook out his hands and brought them up in front of him. This was their third match of the night, as they were both trying to get back into their respective fighting forms. For Shev, it had been a while, and Kismet’s first fight back at the Tavern had been nigh on disastrous. And so, he and Shev faced off, as partners who like to fight are wont to do.

Neither of them moved for a long time, both of them waiting for the other to make the first attack, but it was Shev who budged first. He didn’t come in for a strike, no; instead, he straightened up and walked along the side of the mats, as if sizing Kismet up for something altogether different that had the lavender-haired viera arching a brow.

“Like what you see, Silvertongue?” Kismet queried, the amused curve of his lips drawing a lopsided smirk from the taller viera.

“Yer well put-together, aye,” Shev replied, moving far too casually for a fight. If Kismet didn’t know any better, he’d have let down his guard. But he did know better. Shev was, in essence, a walking force of nature, and the predatory glint in his golden eyes had Kismet tightening his grip on one of his blades. “It’s almost like yer beggin’ me t’ take ya apart.”

Kismet didn’t move from his spot, but two fingers rose from his backward blade in preparation. When Shev’s eyes darted to those fingers, Kismet sneered at him. “I’ll only beg if you win, sweetheart,” he practically purred.

Shev rolled a shoulder, and then shrugged. “Well, I’ve got some work t’do then, aye?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but Kismet was anticipating his lunge. He flipped his blades in the air and smacked his hands together, rapidly forming three mudra as Shev hurtled toward him. When he extended his hands, a column of water enveloped the other viera, and Kismet caught his daggers again and stepped through the shadows to the other side of the geyser before Shev burst out of it, water running in rivulets over the shield that the ward ring had put on his person.

“Ah, normally I’d offer a blow-dry with your wash, but the water doesn’t seem to be sticking,” he called out, and Shev wheeled around to face him.

“Nice trick, lad,” Shev called back, and no sooner had the words left this mouth was he slamming into Kismet, driving him into one of the invisible ward-walls. “Got a few ‘a my own.” A quick one-two with his elbow and fist kept Kismet pinned there, but not for long.

As soon as Shev shifted again, Kismet slipped downward and away, aiming a slash at Shev’s leg as he whirled around him. He dodged a knee meant for his gut and two punches aimed at his solar plexus and his head before thrusting an arm up to block a swift snap-kick.

“Orange already,” Shev commented as he kept up with his assault. Kismet paid it no mind; his shield was lower in integrity than Shev’s was, but that was fine. He just needed to bide his time and strike when he could. “Best get yer knees ready.” A flurry of punches dodged, and one parried with a quick swipe of Kismet’s arm, which he then snapped inward for a slash at Shev’s exposed midsection. The taller viera’s lantern flickered to join Kismet’s, bathing both of them in a warm pumpkin glow.

“Whose knees?” Kismet retorted, pressing the attack. Shadow-stepping behind Shev, he swiftly stabbed his knives inward toward the man’s kidneys, but Shev was too quick and half-turned, dodging both thrusts and planting his heel in Kismet’s hip, knocking him back and sending one of his daggers clattering across the floor.

“I didn’t agree to beg, Sta–”

Anything else Shev was about to say was cut off as Kismet threw out his free hand, this time closing it into a fist as if around an invisible string. He yanked his hand back toward himself and Shev doubled over with a gasp, trying but failing to take in any air. Kismet didn’t pull the air away from him for long; just enough to keep him off-balance before darting in for a decisive blow to his ribcage with his remaining dagger.

Shev’s lamp went deep crimson as Kismet let him breathe again, and he answered with a series of maneuvers that Kismet had only ever seen him practice slowly. This was at rapid speed, though, and as the pair of them dodged and weaved around each other, Shev picked up his momentum again. Kismet didn’t realize that Shev was channeling aether until fire was licking up the other’s arm, and as Shev went in for a fire-laced palm strike, Kismet tried to push all of the air around him at the man to drive him back.

It wasn’t the greatest idea he’d ever had, but it worked. The air ignited the fire, and the resulting explosion threw them both back into opposite walls. Shev’s shield went down then, and he called the match in Kismet’s favor. As they met in the middle of the mats, Shev put his hands on his hips and watched Kismet. “Y’know, I wonder if we could combine those somehow without blowin’ ourselves up in th’ process. Yer wind, and a fire strike? Could make a right flamethrower.”

Kismet grabbed his fallen dagger and sheathed both of them with a thoughtful look on his face. “Maybe not your close-range elemental abilities, that’d have too much of a chance to hurt you. But something like… Roelle’s lightning? We could make a lightning storm at a longer range.”

“Hells, I wouldn’t wanna be on th’ receivin’ end ‘a tha’,” Shev mused. They started toward the bar, simultaneously snaking arms around each other as they walked. “Whatcha want ta drink, Starlight? I’ll make ya somethin’.”

“Anything’s fine,” Kismet responded with a smile and a sideways glance, “ as long as I don’t have to beg for it.”

[kairologia]

Planets in Hellenistic Astrology — part 1 : the ascendant + the luminaries (sun/moon).

Where modern astrology places the emphasis on signs, traditional astrology deems planets THE most important part of the practice. It places planets as actors whereas everything else serves as setting, stage & costumes.

The form of astrology I practice focuses on the use of the 7 traditional planets, as outers (Uranus/Neptune/Pluto) had yet to be identified due to their invisibility to the naked eye — and though I still use them, I don’t emphasize them as much. The 7 traditional planets are usually divided thus: the Luminaries (Sun/Moon), fast-moving Personal Planets (Mercury/Venus/Mars) and slow-moving Social Planets (Jupiter/Saturn).

Now that we got that out of the way, moving on to the actual point of the post,

The core of the chart : the sun, moon & rising.

The core of the chart is represented by the luminaries plus the ascendant. I sadly often come across descriptions of this triad that are too vague or not explained clearly & understandably, which often leads to widespread misconceptions around what these three components represent (especially the sun + ascendant).

Simply put, the Sun and Moon represent the two energy or power sources of the body/mind — as these Celestial Bodies provide most of the light in the heavens. They are luminary bodies that carry distinct energies and symbolize archetypal influences that manifest based on their sign, house, and aspect placements.

The Sun is the emissive luminary & shows how one’s vital energies are spent. The Moon is the receptive luminary & shows how one’s energies are regenerated & recalibrated. The Sun and Moon combined represent the driver, where the Sun signifies the driver's actions, and the Moon signifies their reactions. The Ascendant, on the other hand, serves as the vehicle steered by the influences of the Sun and Moon.

— Starting with the Sun,

The Sun, through the annual cycle of solstices and equinoxes, establishes the seasons of the year. In a chart, the sun directly corresponds to the themes of the whole sign house of Leo. Much like the sun enables visibility in the universe, it allows topics ruled by the sun (i.e, whichever house Leo occupies in one’s chart) to become prominently visible in our lives. As an example, if Leo is in your first house, the sun represents your identity, what with it ruling your first house of self, and if Leo is in your fifth house, it signifies that the sun rules over matters related to your pleasure, sexual and romantic pursuits and enjoyment of life, and so on for other house placements.

As an isolated archetype, the sun, being a life source, symbolizes aspirations, a drive to enlighten or illuminate something, mirroring its central role in the solar system where everything orbits around it. This conveys a sense of being drawn towards embodying and actualizing the self in a specific manner — making it an aspirational energy.

In addition to what was stated previously, the sun represents vitality, spirit, soul, the conscious mind, intellect, the father, judgement, public reputation, action, and authority. It holds a place in the day sect.

This isn't to negate any potential resonance with your sun sign, as resonance means different things to different people.

Trivia :

— Domicile: Leo

— Exaltation: Aries

— Detriment: Aquarius

— Fall: Libra

— Quality : Hot and Dry (choleric temperament)

— Colors: Gold, yellow, amber

— Professions: Leaders, royalty, professions that work with solar significations

— Places: Houses, palaces, theaters, halls

— Day of the Week: Sunday

— Body Parts: Heart, eyes

— Animals: Lions, felines, eagle, phoenix, nightingale

— Minerals & stones : Gold, Chrysolite

— Moon :

The Moon defines the lunar months through her cycle of waxing & waning phases. She primarily symbolizes the themes of the whole sign house that Cancer occupies in your chart.

The moon stands out as the most impermanent celestial indicator, residing in each zodiac sign for no longer than two and a half days. Its phases undergo constant shifts, mirroring elements that are in perpetual flux, such as bodily cycles, our bodies in general, mood variations, and all sorts of cyclic phenomena such as routines.

While its influence extends over emotions, it encompasses more than just that aspect. The moon serves as a mechanism of recalibration of both our emotional and physical well-being.

The moon also represents the body, sensations, emotion, memories, the "gut brain," intuition, senses, the mother, the lineage, women, conception, appearance, sight, nurture, older brothers, housekeeping, possessions, silver, and glass. It is of the night sect.

Trivia :

— Domicile: Cancer

— Exaltation: Taurus

— Detriment: Capricorn

— Fall: Scorpio

— Quality : Cold and Wet (phlegmatic)

— Places: Mountains, bodies of water, baths, fishponds, springs, docks

— Colors: Silver, white, pale blue

— Day of the Week: Monday

— Professions: Sailors, nurses, midwives, messengers, travelers, fishermen

— Body Parts: Breasts, fem reproductive system

— Minerals & stones: Moonstone, pearls, selenite, silver

— Animals: Fishes, creatures that live in water or come out at night

— And lastly, the ascendant;

The rising sign corresponds to the zodiac sign ascending above the eastern horizon at the time of your birth & containing the exact degree of your ascendant.

From a technical standpoint, the rising sign forms the foundation of your natal chart & sets the tone for it, acting as a cornerstone & subsequently dictating the house placements for all celestial bodies.

A birth chart is a comprehensive map of your entire life, encompassing more than just your personality traits — with this in mind, the rising sign (being the 1st house) holds a direct connection to you. It directly signifies you — your physical form, your identity, personality, character, and overall vitality.

I want to clarify that the ascendant being the you indicator in a chart does not imply that it encapsulates the totality of your essence. Astrology is nuanced, complex & there is no such thing as a “core” self. It’s not sun, not the moon, & not the rising either. Humans are all too complex for such oversimplifications and astrology mirrors that. Nevertheless, the rising sign remains the primary indicator you’d look at where “me” topics such personality are concerned.

It also important to note that the rising sign dictates the trajectory of transits within your natal chart, forming the basis for horoscopes and forecasts. So when reading horoscopes, go with your rising sign!

Fun fact: historically, when asked for your sign, you were expected to answer with your rising sign, a practice prevalent for millennia & until around a century ago. The shift towards sun signs was, simply put, an accident in history (thanks, Alan Leo!)

Part 2 : Mercury/Venus/Mars/Jupiter/Saturn.

Check pinned if you want to book with me!

[queersrus]

astronomy witch theme

(nick)names:

astra, astro, astre, astera, astel/astelle, astella, ariel, aura, aurora, aurore, aure, aurelie/auralie, auralia/aurelia, atlas, aristar, aries, altair, astreaus, aether, apollo, apolla, artemis bila, boreals, boreal comet, cosma, cosmic, cosmo, celest/celeste, celestia, celestio, callisto, calypso, Cassiopeia, claudius, caelum, caelus, cassio dusk, dawn estel/estell/estelle, estella, elera, elio, esther, eclipse, eclipsa, eclipso, eostre, eos galaxy, galactica, galactico, galactix, galactic, galacta, galaxius hecate/hekate, helios, hemera, hera iris, ira juno, jupiter, janus kepler, keyra/kayra lune, luna/loona, lunar, luno, lunette, lyra moon, moona, mars/marz, miranda, meno nova, nix/nyx, nox, nuit pandora, pallas, pulsar, pollux rhea stel/stell/stelle, stella, steller/stellar, star, stella, stary/starie, sol, soleil, solar, solette, solina, solana, solace, solstice tian vesper, vega xian zorya

surnames:

astra, ayla, airy, array, aquila, antlia estrela/estrella, eddington, eridanus kepler, kuiper herschel, halley, hale, hypatia, hevelius drake starcatcher, starwatch, stargaze(r), starlight, scorpius, spellman Cassiopeia orion ursa delphi, delphius pictor fortune le fay/fe/faye nightingale, nighwatch, nightmoon moon brightmoon gloom, gloam

titles:

the witch of the stars, the witch who studies the stars, the star watch, the astronomer, the witch, the astronomer witch, the stellar witch, the witch who knows the sky, the witch of the night sky

(prn) who knows the stars, (prn) who studdies the stars, (prn) who knows the magic of the stars, (prn) who practices witchcraft in starligh, (prn) who studdies magic by starlight

1st p: i/me/my/mine/myself

si/star/stars/starself sti/stell/stellars/stellarself ai/astre/astros/astroself ai/astronome/astronomy/astronomine/astronomyself wi/witch/witches/witch's/witchself wy/witch/witchs/witchself ci/conste/consteli/constellations/constellationself mi/magi/magics/magicself

2nd p: you/your/yours/yourself

sto/star/stars/starself sto/steller/stellers/stellerself astro/astr/astrs/astrself astro/astronomer/astronomers/astronomerself wo/witcher/witchers/witcherself co/consteller/constellers/constellerself mo/magicr/magicrs/magicrself

3rd p: they/them/theirs/themself

star/stars, sta/ar, star/stary, stary/sky, stary/night, star/light stell/stella, stell/a, stel/la, stell/steller, steller/stellers, stellar/stellars astro/astros, astro/astronomy, astro/nomy, astro/nomer, astro/astronomer, astronomy/astronomys, astronomy/astronomer constellation/constellations, constell/constellation, constell/ation wit/ch, witch/witches, wit/witch, wi/witch, witch/witchy, witch/craft, witchcraft/witchcrafts magic/magics, ma/gic, magic/magical

[metakazkz]

Fun fact about Me and my Moonside (update)

1- If Sunside meets his Au version, he will be fascinated and happy to meet them. However, if he meets the AU version of Moonside? He will call them ugly and call every name in the book to downgrade them as if all Sun aus are better than the Moon aus.

2 - After Katherine being attacked by (Solar) Eclipse from her back. Her scars on her back takes longer to heal. The scars may also reflect Moonside's back. Which means if Katherine gets hurt. Moonside can also be injured. This is why Moonside never gets hit to avoid taking damage.

3 -Although the reason why Sunside and Moonside hate each other is unknown, even though they don't remember why. It's almost like they hated each other like natural enemies.

4- Sunside didn't hate Katherine because he saw her as a victim of Moonside's possession and was using her to bring chaos to the city. Even though all Moonside did was just pull pranks, arrest criminals, and make the cops look like incompetent idiots. Moonside didn't hate James because he thought Sunside just wanted to be the center of everything and use James' tiredness as an excuse to take control over his body for all day.

5 - Their complete name is:

Katherine Nightingale

James Sol

Kevin Starr

6- Moonside, Sunside and Eclipseside each have their own unique power.

Moonside is Electricity.

Sunside is Fire.

Eclipseside is Plasma.

7- If you give Moonside a lot of pillows, he will build a small castle.

8- If you give Sunside a candle, he will light it with his finger. But be careful, don't let him stay near it for too long, or the candle's fire will intensify and burn it quickly. He need a lot of practice.

9- If you give Moonside a light bulb, he will light up. But the light will be destroyed because Moonside's Electric is too powerful for the bulb to contain. I don't think his goal was to destroy the bulbs, but to practice controlling his power.

10- Eclipseside acts as an older brother and mentor to Sunside and Moonside. He wants to know where this hatred between them comes from. So he can better understand the situation and how to resolve it.

11- Once the humans transform into their celestial robot alter ego. they cannot reverse it back into the next day. Except Kevin who can change into Eclipseside whatever time he want.

When Katherine transform into Moonside at night or in a dark place, she cannot change back until the next day at 6am, so Moonside has control all night. (or day )

When James transforms into Sunside during the day. He cannot change back until 6pm. However, if James is tired and needs rest, Sunside takes control at any time until midnight.

[h-didanart]

Aaand welcome back everybody, to the Sunrise Arc Theatre! Today, we have some special treats from backstage, the cast of Get in Losers getting into hijinks!

Kicking off the night with a bit of fun, Hunter and Ruin will often do silly things while singing their parts of Yo Girl.

They’re gonna spend the rest of the play at each other’s throats so they might as well mess around as much as they can on the brief moments they get to be backstage at once.

After that first performance, it was agreed that a prop would be used for the scythe instead of having one of the twins turn into one.

The extra rest is appreciated by whomever is exiting stage early, and by any fans that follow their social media since they usually won’t exit without at least one picture of the action on stage.

Before their characters’ fates are followed through, Moon, KC, and Lunar will often hang around together and either do backing vocals or extra percussion for whatever songs are next.

Dead Girl Walking Reprise is the only one where they all can be together, KC and Moon will be preoccupied in Confrontation, and the three are not physically together in Meant to be Yours.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that the actors will often dance a bit during catchy songs.

It’s very fun to see them just have fun and do silly things.

And this, this is a sight you’ll never see on the play.

Anyone who’s met them will tell you, the Stellar siblings are a chaotic bunch, doing silly dances, quoting memes, generally being menaces, gathering enough courage to go to the play’s corner of the internet (Nightingale has cried several times by the stuff people have written), they’re unstoppable chaos when together.

The set had never been as loud before Nightingale and Daytime joined.

Speaking of people joining, the cast expanding allowed for some choreographies to get extended or more complex. Previous roles by two people could be held by three, two actors could play the same character back to back and avoid extra tiredness.

This also meant that the chaos and in-jokes expanded exponentially. Case in point, a Sun hallucination in Shine a Light Reprise certainly spurred a bit of a teasing from Dusk to Sun.

Once in a while there’ll be issues with the cast’s different needs. Whether it’s Moon’s joint lockdowns, or Ruin’s fatigue, or the Eclipses propensity for getting headaches, or Hunter and Solar overusing//forgetting their binders.

Our workers do their best to help in these situations, but oftentimes a fellow cast member will be able to aid in the situation. Most times.

And to wrap today’s little dump off, a photo of the cast in opening night for a full arc run. The beginnings and the first and second Takeovers, including Eclipse’s victory and a wrap to the year.

The cast didn’t exactly have enough energy to take an aftershow picture.

[glamourweaver]

Little Exalted project I started much earlier in 3e but feel like picking back up now.

Exalted Argonaut writeups

Dawn - Heracles (Supernal Brawl - his earliest feats are monster grappling related, by the time he needs to hold up the sky he’ll be Essence 5 anyway, so he doesn’t need a shortcut on Athletics)

Zenith - Orpheus (Supernal Performance + Elemental Summoning Sorcerer with a Musical Shaping Ritual + Silver-Voiced Nightingale Style)

Twilight - Asclepius (Supernal Medicine + Necromancy + Snake Style)

Night - Lynceus (Supernal Awareness; Lynceus is notably a less famous figure than the other 4 Solars, but my first pick for Night was a better fit for Changing Moon Lunar)

Eclipse - Iason (Supernal Sail)

No Moon - Medea (Ram, Iason’s Mate)

Changing Moon - Autolycus (Wolf)

Full Moon - Atalanta (Bear)

Casteless - Periclymenus (Bee)

Air - Nestor

Earth - Caeneus (Tya, former lover of Ocean Father)

Fire - Philocetes (Gentian-born, trained in funerary arts in Sijan)

Water - Pollux (Castor is mortal twin who did not receive progenitive essence)

Wood - Staphylus

Journeys - Tiphys

Day - He Who Walks the Labyrinth Bathed in Blood (I’m going with the idea here that Theseus pre-underworld was a previous Night Caste incarnation, but the “Theseus” who returns from the underworld is a newly Exalted Abyssal)

Bonus non-Argonaut

Eclipse - Sisyphus

There will be a sequel series of the Trojan War Generation, including Sisyphus there’s next incarnation, who is an even more famous Eclipse than him.

[a-whispering-echo]

Sans Nickname Masterpost

A collection of nicknames used for the sanses, for what ever you may need them for. Some of these are ones ive made up, so are once other people have used, im just collecting them.

This is a collective project, if you have one for ANY sans, even ones not already on the list, sent them my way, in the comments, my asks or you could dm me, i dont mind, ill get them on when i can.

Nightmare

Night, Mare, Nightlight, Moonlight, Midnight, Moon, Moonbeam, Nightingale, Moonbeam, moony, Moonflower, Lune, Moonshine, Noot, Nootmare, Octopus, Calamari, moonjelly

Dream

Sunshine, Glowstick, Firefly, Starlight, Starling, Pipe dream, starshine, sunspot, sunflower, Dreamer, Solar Flare, little light, ray of light, Solstice, Sunburst, Sol, Daydream, Bumblebee,

Killer

Killz, Tears, Oil eyes, Stabby, Cutlet, Killshot, Overkill, Killjoy, skillet, roadkill, Buttercup, Rogue, Target, Tomcat, Kitcat, Rascal

Cross

X, C, criss-cross, applesauce, crossy, crossroads, crossword, zebra crossing, zebra, pup, puppy, crossy road, double stuff, candy floss, cotton candy, candy, cookie, crossbow, your X-cellence, black white and red all over, Jellybean, lionheart, Oreo

Horror

Big guy, H, Gummy Bear, Teddy Bear, teddy, bear, Pumpkin, Cookie Monster, chompy, chum, Crackhead

Dust

Murder, dusty, dust bunny, bun, bunny, duster, feather duster, feather, dustbin, dustpan, Little Lamb, lamb, lambchop, powder, cocaine, powdered sugar, sugar, dust cloud, snowdrop, cinnabunny, walking dust mote, stardust, Red Riding Hood, Hare, Ghost

Blue/Swap

Baby Blue, blueberry, bluebell, bluebird, Bluebonnet, Blueberry Muffin, muffin, Bluejay, mistletoe, Swapper, Cadet, Guard, Berry blues, Comet

Ink

Inky, Squid, Squididiot, inkblot, Doodlebug, Snickerdoodle, Inkstain, inkling, Inkdrop, Inkwell, skittles, Stink, Calamari, KiKi, Abomination, rainbow, Rainbow dash

Error

glitchy, Ru, Ru ru, mistake, Bumblebee,

Fell

Red, spikes, fellanie

Reaper:

Reaps, Angel, Death, Macabre, Crow, Raven, Birdy, Birdbrain

Geno

Rose, Candle, Dove, Rose thorn, Petal, Genocide

Lust

Violet, Plum, Lavender, Amethyst, Lilac, Star

[talonabraxas]

I am the dust in the sunlight, I am the ball of the sun . . . I am the mist of morning, the breath of evening . . . . I am the spark in the stone, the gleam of gold in the metal . . . . The rose and the nightingale drunk with its fragrance. I am the chain of being, the circle of the spheres, The scale of creation, the rise and the fall. I am what is and is not . . . I am the soul in all. --Rumi

Solar Elders Talon Abraxas

[bungitonthen]

1/11/24

you shouldn't do that ... you know you're only dreaming ... master of the universe ... we took the wrong step years ago ... silver machine - hawkwind (x in search of space: stephen w tayler remix)

spiral galaxy 28948 - hawkwind

star of sirius - steve hackett

the institute of mental health burning - peter hammill

lucky seven - chris squire

nightingales & bombers - manfred mann's earthband

sheba's song - fruupp

solar musick suite - steve hillage

(ring the bells and sing: progressive sounds of 1975)

[cdragons]

...Should I make Druig a dad w/ Katey (that's what Hecate!Eternal goes by, but it's still you ig?) with twin girls when the gang arrives...or is that too much?

Because I already got the names, powers, and personalities picked out: They are 4 in this.

Laoise (Light Manipulator & Solar Magic; very energetic & social butterfly, loves sneak attacks, very hands-on learner; the older twin so she is very close and protective of her baby sister; Nicknames: Little Dove, Our Dawn, Mighty Warrior, Little Light, Our Sun)

Aisling (Dream Prophet & Lunar Magic; more quiet and introverted, loves to hang in her mom's magical library & the Amazon medical hut, go-to lie detector; being the younger twin, she is shy but her big sister always reassures her that she is brave; Nicknames: Little Nightingale, Little Seer, Mini-Librarian, Sweet Thinker, Our Moon)

Both girls have Druig's eyes & dimples & freckles; but Laoise has his brown curls that are lighter with slight highlights, while Aisling's is much darker and slightly wavy. Both like to wear it long and loose, but will wear it up if it is done by their mom and dad.

Both are extremely close to their parents, and see your and Druig's relationship as gold standard, and hope for that in their future. They grew up watching how you two were still separate individuals, but a powerful unit. They witnessed every gentle kiss and tight embrace, every loving gaze and soft smile, all the whispers of love and reassurance, and the overwhelming love and respect you two held for one another.

They don't really ask their Aunt Sephie about love because one time they did, and she got really quiet. She was still smiling, but her eyes became sad, as if she was remembering a certain blue-eyed friend with a silver streak in his hair who would keep her secrets and held her heart.

There are 2 other kids, both you and Druig's biological kids, but you pretty much adopted them. They are both

Damian, it was a name he gave himself. He was born in what is now Pakistan but was sold to Turkish military. He was sold into the army and trained since birth to be a soldier. At 20, he was then killed by order of his commanding officer, and resurrected as a "Div or Dev". He was then given a very strict and formal education: learning many languages and varied skills. His favorite that he picked up was drawing and painting. The only person who treated him with kindness was Shireen, a servant girl who was mistreated due to having survived leprosy as a child. He pitied the little girl for being assigned to a killer, but she always reassured him that she was happy to be his friend. In response to her kindness, he offered to teach her how to read and write. When he learned of her death, he collected her ashes and killed everyone involved in her death before escaping to look for anyone who could revive her. Shireen was born into poverty, she doesn't remember much of her past. She remembers that she was sick for a very long time before recovering. But after she recovered, her mother started to yell for anything. Not only that, but she would beat and ignore her too. She cried at night asking why Allah would curse her with such a hideous child; it wasn't long until she disappeared. Shireen knew her mother was cruel to her, but she still loved her. A man would find her on the streets, and told her that she was sold to them. She was assigned to be the Div's servant. The other servants would tell her horrible stories about him: saying that he would tear her limb from limb, pluck out her eyes, and drink her blood. But she quickly discovered that wasn't true. She also remembered dying, and being lost. But soon she woke up...only...with wings?

Dear God, I have absolutely ZERO self-control.

Tagging: @spacetalbot, @valeskafics, @beananacake